The Blanket Reasoning
by teoriapostmoderna
Summary: Amy comes home tired from work when her daily Skype call with Sheldon brings an unexpected development. Set in the latter half of season 4, before the kiss. Response to The Blanket Hypothesis Challenge on the Shamy's thread at Fanforum.


_**Author's note: **__As always, thanks to my beta Melanie (ZephyrCamida) and to everyone who takes their time to read these. It's very much appreciated._

_This fic comes extremely late, but is a response to The Blanket Hypothesis Challenge on the Shamy thread at Fanforum, back when the promo pictures for The Cooper Extraction came out and seeing a different blanket on Amy's couch generated feels. If I were a Pokémon, I'd be a weird mixture between Snorlax and Slowpoke. So sorry everyone. Especially for that reference._

_Two months later, here I am. Better late than never, I guess? Enjoy._

* * *

**The Blanket Reasoning**

Coming home from a long and exhausting day at work, Amy inserted the key and turned the knob with tired movements. Closing the door behind her, she sighed − a draft almost pushed her inside her own apartment.

She dropped her bag on the chair next to the door, fixing her hair. The day was not seeing its end when all she wanted to do now was take a hot bath and slumber into bed.

If it wasn't for one particular detail that changed her routine in the last months, coming close to a year now.

An insisting beep coming in sequences of threes arrived muffled from the bag sitting, as spent as her, on the chair.

Lighting the lamp, she reached for her cellphone.

_Are you home? I'm available for a Skype session over dinner. When you're ready._

Sheldon.

She stared at the text until the screen went black. Following that, her fingers lingered over the buttons before formulating an answer.

_I am just now returning home. I'll contact you._

He responded with a smiley face.

After removing her jacket − and noticing a sudden decrease of body heat − she turned on her laptop.

As she casually noticed he was right − since she let him change operative system the machine was working much more efficiently − three monkeys said hi to her from the desktop.

It was cold. Her body quivered.

She put water on the stove, then sat down at her computer. Sheldon was ringing.

"Good evening, Amy Farrah Fowler" he said. The way he pronounced her name was so pleasant: she could hear every syllable.

"Good evening."

"Did you have a pleasant day?"

"More exhausting than anything" she sighed.

"A day devoted to science is worth every neuron spent on it" he lightly shook his head at her.

"Acute observation."

"Thank you."

He smiled as he grabbed a cup of what she could only assume was−

"...tea!" she gasped.

"What?"

"Be right back" she excused herself, getting up to turn off the stove.

She opened her tea box, all the while staring and taking in the variety of colours and scents. After a careful scrutiny, she opted for green tea mint. She wanted to drink something reinvigorating.

"I'm having Earl Grey" Sheldon said from the laptop, raising his voice as if he was there in the same room with her.

"Earl Grey?" she repeated. "That thing tastes like soap."

He quipped: "Hey there miss, before meeting me you still had tea with sugar − that's outrageous."

"I'm not arguing with you" she said quickly.

He added right after: "Neither am I."

After placing the tea bag in the cup, she filled it to the brim with close to boiling water, as Sheldon taught her. She wasn't much of a tea drinker − she still appreciated tepid water more than anything, apart from the drinks she had with Penny and Bernadette on Girls' Night − but Sheldon introduced her to this comforting habit; they usually shared four cups of tea on Skype before saying goodnight.

Checking the time on her wristwatch, she made sure the recommended two minutes had passed before throwing the tea bag away in the bin.

"What incompetent fool writes this?" Amy could hear him mumble.

"Reading Wikipedia entries again?" she asked entertained as she slowly moved closer to the chair, both hands around the hot cup. Trying to avoid to spill any liquid turned out to be a challenge every single time.

"Yes. To think that people consider this an online encyclopedia" Sheldon shook his head dramatically.

Amy sat down and was just about to take a sip, when a wild shiver took over her, making tea spill everywhere, wetting her skirt and thighs.

"Ah!"

"Are you okay?!" he asked. "...is there an earthquake?"

"No, Sheldon, I−" she stopped to think. "How could it ever be an earthquake when you didn't feel a thing?"

"It could have been concentrated to your area." he rolled his eyes. "So what happened?"

"I guess I was cold − I was as soon as I got home and took off my jacket and... it caught up to me, and now I'm soaking wet from the waist down" she said, word after word spilling down one after the other. Just like the tea.

As Sheldon looked on, eyebrows furrowed, she shook her left hand to get rid of the residual drops of tea, while putting the half-empty cup close to her laptop with the right one.

"I'm home! I brought dinner."

Amy recognized the voice as Leonard's.

Sheldon looked back and forth from the screen to where Leonard was − at least, where Amy assumed he was − before saying: "I have to go" and closed the call.  
Having nothing else to do and, actually, that was the only thing to do she decided to change her clothes and take a bath. The tea that drenched her was turning from uncomfortably hot to even more uncomfortable cold. She didn't want to risk catching a cold.

* * *

Like a teabag immersed in a cup − tea imagery was all she could come up that night, it seemed − she was soaked to the chin in hot water. After a while, though, it wasn't a very pleasant experience, she had to admit. As the water was becoming lukewarm, she took a close look at her wrinkly fingers.

Three bips on the phone again. She grabbed her phone from a close chair after drying her hands on a towel.

_Where are you?_

She typed.

_I'm taking a bath. Why?_

_Okau._ was the immediate response.

And after a few seconds:

_Sorry, typo. lol_

_lol_

She then added: _Why did you ask?_

_I've been knocking on your door for ten minutes. If you could come open the door instead of making me worry, thank you._

Amy could hear Sheldon's condescending tone emanating from the screen. It generated a smile.

_Let me clean up and get dressed._

After 30 seconds: _Okay._

"Sorry for making you wait" she said, opening the door. "Why are you here?" she asked. Then: "How do you even know know my address?""

"This is the internet age, Amy Farrah Fowler" he smirked. He then tilted his head to the right, leading Amy's eyes to a purple paper bag he was holding with both his hands.

"Well... you said you were cold and − while I advice you to adjust your thermostat − I asked Leonard to drive me here to give you−"

The paper cracked as he revealed a blanket.

"...this."

"But..."

Amy was at a loss for words.

"You said you were cold, right? even though you're always bundled up in cardigans. I can't even tell you to wear more clothes" he said, as if not resolving a problem with an advice bothered him.

After losing themselves in the blanket's patterns, her eyes shoot up to meet Sheldon's.

He continued: "Meemaw made this for me before I was born, but I don't use it anymore. You can now have it" he pushed the object in her uncertain arms.

"I can't take this from you. It's a gift" Amy tried to convince him.

But he was resilient.

"No, it's not. It's social convention."

"In which way? Explain" she said, a clear tone of challenge in her voice.

"Meemaw made it for me thinking I would need it, and it was useful for a while. Now it's not anymore, at least not for me. You seem to need it more than I do. Southern California weather should not be this harsh on anyone."

"I have blood circulation problems" she defended herself.

"One more reason for you to have it. A gift should be used" he simply said.

She noticed the contradiction in his latest phrase, but decided to not point it out.

"You made me come running all the way here, it's the least you could do."

She could almost hear a please in his voice. Not quite.

"But why? You still haven't told me why this is a social convention."

He sighed. "Aren't you supposed to do favours to friends? ...and you're my friend."

This had never happened to her before.

"Thank you" she said, her voice barely audible.

"Do I need to repeat myself? You have nothing to thank me for. It's my duty. I'm your friend."

Those words, like a stone hitting the bottom of a lake, took their time to reach her brain completely.

"Count on me next time, too. I'm here" she said. "As a friend."

He smiled. "Goodnight, Amy Farrah Fowler."

"Goodnight, Sheldon."

After preparing a cup of chamomile tea, she brought it with her to bed, bundling herself up in the blanket. She reached over for her phone to type another next.

_Chamomile is really helping with my night terrors. Thank you._

She wrote an additional one right after:

_Your blanket is keeping me warm._

He answered:

_Of course. Always listen to what I say. If you are − as I'm sure − you are putting it to its correct use. Take good care of it and use the right amount of fabric softener when you wash it. I'll send you a pdf tomorrow with the doses. Also, I already told you're not supposed to use technological devices right before bed._

Sleep took her over by surprise, as she didn't get the chance to answer. A sleep so warm and comforting she could almost feel Sheldon's arms instead of his blanket around her - a thought which her dream allowed herself to indulge in.


End file.
